


Cartorian Fish Jelly

by allofthecaffeine



Series: Thirteenth Doctor Drabbles [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluffyfest, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-30 23:55:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17233547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofthecaffeine/pseuds/allofthecaffeine
Summary: Sequel to my other story, Shock.Six days after rescue from the Gorans, the Doctor is getting restless. A disagreement with the TARDIS leads to her making a bit of a mess. Fluffy fluffy Thasmin  fluff with a hint of h/c ensues.





	Cartorian Fish Jelly

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! So, it's New Years Eve here in NZ. I'm camping. I'm bored. I'm stuck in an overheating tent with my mother. Apparently, this combination leads to an unnatural amount of productivity. To all those who haven't read my first work, Shock, I really, really recommend you do so. This fic will make very little sense if you don't.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Oh, also; I'm typing this on my phone. In a tent. With no spellcheck. My sincerest apologies for any mistakes. If you do find any, even little ones, please point them out. I will be eternally grateful :-)
> 
> Now, read on, my friends! Thasmin awaits!

It had been six days since they'd pulled the Doctor from the clutches of the Gorans. Six days since they'd found her, naked and bruised, Yaz having to almost carry her on the walk back to the TARDIS. It had been six days, and the Old Girl was still refusing to leave the vortex.

Yaz didn't mind the drifting, not really. She enjoyed watching Ryan try and teach Graham how to play GTA5; enjoyed it even more when Graham turned out good enough to kick his arse at it. What she really appreciated, though, was the time she'd been spending with the Doctor.

When they'd gotten her back, the day they found her, she'd been exhausted. Yaz had helped her into the softest pyjamas she could find; an old pair she'd spotted in the back of the Doctor's wardrobe. Blue and white striped flannelette, miles and miles too big. She'd stayed with the Doctor all night, or all of what equated to nighttime in a time machine.

The next evening, after spending the day eating pancakes and custard creams, laughing at the men in the Games Room, the Doctor had excused herself to bed. Reached the doorway. Paused, then turned to ask Yaz if she was coming, too.

She did. And every night since.

The Doctor herself, whilst elated by the new sleeping arrangements ("It's like a giant sleepover, Yaz! A never-ending sleepover! Ooh, can we make popcorn?"), was getting visibly frustrated with her unresponsive TARDIS. When she wasn't with Yaz, she was almost always flitting around the console room, begging and bribing and threatening her time ship. Graham had commented, voice hushed as they observed from the hallway, that he'd never seen the Doc get that snappy with anything.

It wasn't until that morning that the TARDIS had snapped back.

Yaz had been on her way from the kitchen, tea mugs in hand, when she'd heard a bang, a squelch and an ungainly squawk from the direction of the console room. She'd sped up her pace. Rounding the corner, she couldn't help bursting into giggles. The Doctor was standing hands-on-hips by the console, still dressed in PJ's and fuzzy shark slippers, covered completely in lumpy green goop.

"Cartorian fish jelly," the Doctor had said, having heard Yaz's approach, "is one of the hardest to wash out substances in your galaxy."

"And she's doused you in it."

"Yep. She's doused me in it."

The Doctor'd spluttered a little, spitting out the jelly that had slipped into her mouth as she spoke. Yaz took pity on her.

"Go on," she'd said, placing the mugs on the floor and sitting down next to them, "you go have a wash. I'll wait here for ya."

The Doctor had frowned a little, brow furrowed, before nodding. Her slippers had squelched as she'd marched past Yaz, down the hall.

That was over an hour ago. 

_I know she said it was hard to wash out, but she's the Doctor. She has three swimming pools, an inline hockey rink and a storage room dedicated solely to dogsleds. Surely she's got some kind of special soap for this, especially if she keeps that much on board._

Yaz was still sat on the floor of the console room, her tea long gone, when the lights thrummed around her. The TARDIS had been talking to her a lot since the Doctor's rescue; her favourite PJ's were always clean and folded at the foot of the Doctor's bed, a book waiting for her on the nightstand. The TARDIS had surprisingly good taste in literature. 

Little lights had also started trailing down hallways whenever she wanted to go someplace so that, Yaz assumed, she wouldn't get lost. On occasion, the TARDIS had turned them on to lead her places; like three days earlier, when the Doctor had gotten up early, roused Ryan for assistance, and attempted to bake breakfast muffins.

The little lights were flashing now.

She rose, leaving the mugs on the floor.  _The Doctor's tea is long cold, anyway_ , she thought. Yaz started down the corridor, the lights guiding her left, then right, then left again. Two, no, three more lefts and the lights blinked out. She smiled her thanks to the Time Ship, gently patting the doorframe in front of her.

Many doors in the TARDIS were identical, Yaz had noted. Some had labels in English, or Circular Gallifreyan, or both. This door was blank save for three blue stripes running lengthwise. Yaz recognised it instantly. Her hand found the scanner, door sliding open at her touch. She stepped inside.

The Doctor's bathroom was perhaps one of the most beautiful rooms Yaz had found inside the TARDIS. White crystal made up the floor, the bath, the sink, the walls. Soft swirls of colour drifted lazily just under its surface. All the metal fixtures - taps, dials, hooks, the showerhead - were all tarnished rainbow. But the ceiling. The ceiling was the most extraordinary part. Billions and billions of strands of spun glass, each a different colour or shade of colour, shot up from the tops of the walls to form an oval dome. Little lights inlaid behind the filaments made the ceiling glitter a plethora of coloured stars.

About as far as you could get from the tiny bath-and-toilet combo in her flat back home.

Sitting amongst all of this beauty was the Doctor. She was sat in her underthings on the enge of the bath, PJ's bundled on the floor beside her. She looked up when Yaz walked in, and smiled, small but genuine.

"I was thinking 'bout whether I should call for you."

Yaz softened. She looked so small, sitting there, and she sounded so tired. Just like she had the morning after the rescue.

 

* * *

 

_She woke up with a head over her heart, an arm thrown over her waist and a mouthful of blonde hair. Yaz's own arm was draped protectively around the Doctor's shoulders. Smiling, she snuggled closer._

_"You'wake?"_

_She startled, and glanced down. Sleepy eyes blinked up from under a mountain of bed head._

_"Yeah," Yaz said, sounding drowsey herself, " 'm awake."_

_They lay like that for a while, just starting at one another. Then the eyes disappeared under the hair again, and Yaz felt the Doctor curl in on herself a little. She hoped the other woman wasn't going to pull away._

_She didn't._

_"I just," the Doctor whispered, having paused to collect her voice, "I just want to say thanks. For rescuing me. For staying. All of it."_

_She went still, then. Tense. Yaz got the feeling she was expecting her thanks to be dismissed, actions brushed off as 'the right thing to do'._

_Yaz shuffled downwards, drawing the Doctor's head to rest against her shoulder, arm tightening it's hold._

_"I'd do it again in a heartbeat."_

 

* * *

 

Yaz saw the same vulnerability before her now. Pride battling with gratitude and losing. An underlying fear of rejection.

_Like I could leave you now._

She crossed the room and sat down next to the Doctor, toeing the slimy pyjamas out of her way. A bit of jelly stuck to her sock.

"What's all this?"

The Doctor glanced around, as if noticing for the first time just how many aerosol cans surrounded her. Yaz didn't miss the tension that left her, either, and wondered if she'd expected her to ask something else.

"These," the Doctor replied, "are from the 35th century. Literal shower in a can. The first one didn't really do much, so, uh... I may have used a few more?"

She sounded appropriately sheepish, and Yaz smiled. Upon closer inspection, there was a little less jelly than she remembered, though some of that could be attributed to the removal of the PJ's. Yaz reached up, brushed back a strand of slimy blonde hair. Only a bit clung to her fingers. The Doctor smiled softly back at her.

Yaz cleared her throat, lowered her hand back to her lap. Her gaze dropped to the pile of empty cans before her. Flicked to the bath, then the Doctor, then the bath again.

"Why don't we get you in the bath?" Yaz suggested, a little awkwardly, breaking the silence, "Clean the rest off properly.

The Doctor didn't reply.

Yaz looked up, properly looked back at her friend again, and clicked.

Shower in a can. Still-healing bruises. Her eyes, angled up and away from the tub. The shower room Yaz had found her in, those six days earlier.

_She's scared of the water._

"Hey," Yaz murmured, placing a hand on the Doctor's arm. It was sticky with drying jelly. She didn't care. Eyes probed the other woman's face as she waited for the Doctor to meet her gaze again. A minute passed. Two. Hazel-green met cocoa brown.

"It'll be fine," she continued, reassuring, "the water will be fine. I promise."

Something changed in the Doctor's expression, then. Acceptance? Resolve? Gratitude that she'd picked up on her fear without probing? Yaz didn't know.

"You'll stay?" The Doctor asked softly, tentatively.

Yaz squeezed her arm. Smiled slightly. Reaching up with her other hand, she pushed back another lock of hair.

" 'Course I will."

Her Doctor smiled back at her.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Kay, so if it sucks, tell me. I've never written a sequel to anything before. Okay, I take that back. I've never written a sequel for anything outside of the shitty picture books I made when I was 8, so please. Tell me what you think, if you want more, etc. I live to please, and now have an amazing 2019 Doctor Who calendar to keep my muse alive :-)


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